


Sweet Serial Killer

by Violette_Pleasures



Series: Love and Violence [3]
Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: (just a little), (kinda), Bottom Carl Grimes, Boys Kissing, Carl Grimes is a Little Shit, Daddy Kink, Dark Carl Grimes, Denial, Drunken Confessions, First Kiss, First Meetings, Frottage, Kissing, Love Confessions, M/M, Memories, One-Eyed Carl Grimes, Reminiscing, Rough Kissing, Roughness, Sassy Carl Grimes, Sweet Negan (Walking Dead), Top Negan (Walking Dead), Underage Drinking, Underage Kissing, Underage Smoking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-23
Updated: 2018-02-14
Packaged: 2019-02-18 18:10:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 15,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13105725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Violette_Pleasures/pseuds/Violette_Pleasures
Summary: "Negan studies the boy for a moment, looks him over trying to figure out how, in all this, his intentions haven't been made perfectly clear, why Carl even feels the need to ask this question. But it occurs to him, he's been approaching this as an adult, as someone who had lived a “normal” life before this new world came to be. He'd dated, graduated from high school, driven a car, got shit faced on his twenty-first. He'd lived and he'd experienced life. Carl? Carl hadn't. He only knew this world, only knew that everything came at a price and that people were only as close to you so much as they could use you."Negan has found his soul mate in a little one-eyed kid from Alexandria, raised and tempered by the hell fire of this new world. But Carl can't seem to figure out how he feels about Negan.(backstory to Ultraviolence)//The Final Installment of the Love and Violence Series!//





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi again everyone nvn 
> 
> This sort of came about as I was rereading Ultraviolence and I kinda wanted to provide a little bit of background for these two and managed to create something I'm pretty happy with nvn I hope you all enjoy even if everyone is p ooc nvn; 
> 
> Comments and such are always appreciated so I know what you guys are looking for next!

The little future serial killer. That's what Negan had come to refer to the kid by.

 

On the ride to their first trip to Alexandria, Negan couldn't stop thinking about him. He wanted to see him again. He hadn't been able to get his mind off the boy since that night, he'd tendrilled and coiled himself around Negan's thoughts until he was an ever present shadow, always lurking, always watching. Something about the spark in that blue eye just set his skin a-tingle and so he made it a point to track down and harass the kid every time they dropped by Alexandria.

 

But he wasn't an asshole about it, he brought peace offerings to break the ice.

 

They'd been standing between the supply trucks when Negan had given him a case of his favorite cherry cola, right from his personal stash. The kid had been pretty confused as to why Negan was giving them to him 'no catch, free of charge.' But he'd mumbled a thanks and opened one right there. He'd tilted his head back, giving Negan full view of his long throat and he'd been more than a little fixated watching his adams apple bobbing with each swallow, the little trickle of syrupy sweet red escaping out of the corner of his mouth. He'd walked away with the smallest of glances over his shoulder and Negan knew he was sinking.

 

+

 

It was when he'd given him the Gameboy a few visits later that Negan thought maybe Carl was sinking too. He'd found Carl in his room throwing darts, and missing terribly at that. Negan had dropped the bag of goodies on the little twin bed and stepped up behind the teen, Carl letting him guide him with gentle touches, just minute adjustments, until he landed the first dart into the board with a dull thunk! He'd turned and smiled at Negan before he could catch himself and it was fuckin' extraordinary to see. And the thank you he'd said for the games had been genuine, albeit quiet and still reserved.

 

+

 

A shot had rang out loud and clear as Negan had been talking to Rick. Both men had taken off running in the direction of the sound.

 

'Take another fuckin' step and I'm going to shoot you.'

 

That threat, combined with Carl's voice had Negan's ears perking up pretty damn fast. The kid had been backed into a corner by one of his men, who was so going to regret having threatened his little serial killer when they got back to the Sanctuary, and had somehow managed to get the guy's gun from him and had it aimed right at his face, finger on the trigger, ready to pull.

 

Rick trying to placate Carl was white noise to Negan's ears as he looked the kid over and saw something within his eye that he recognized in himself. He'd realized that all that gentle, little boy sweetness Carl had been showing him was only half of his personality, the safe one, the one others would accept, because Carl wanted to pull the trigger more than he wanted the guy to back down, he wanted to spill a little blood, get his hands dirty and Negan was in fuckin' love with this kid.

 

+

 

Then they were sneaked around the back of some empty houses, cigarettes between their fingers and Carl had wheezed so terribly at his first puff that Negan had been genuinely worried he might lose a lung. Negan's arm had rested a heavy bar above Carl's head against the sky blue siding he was leaning back on. It was as close as they'd ever dared to stand together in public. Carl had insisted he was fine, so damn determined to prove himself, and kept puffing on the cigarette until he finally took a smooth drag and exhaled without sputtering. He'd looked up at Negan so smug and self-satisfied it was almost like looking in a damn mirror.

 

+

 

'Its laundry day,' he'd insisted when Negan asked him why he was wearing the most hideous mustard, hawaiian print shorts he'd ever seen with a baggy Pabst Blue Ribbon shirt over the top that nearly hid the shorts completely. But when he walked ahead of Negan, just up the steps to sit and sulk on his porch, he could've sworn he saw his hips sway a little more than usual and when had he started wearing cowboy boots like Rick's? When Negan had asked if his hikers were in the wash too, Carl had fired back a snappy retort, blushed spectacularly and crossed his arms with a huff that was so teenagery it had Negan falling all over himself.

 

'This new look suits you, darlin'' He'd made a show of looking Carl up and down.

 

Carl had honest to god pouted up at him and Negan was done for.

 

+

 

'Where the hell is Carl?'

 

Negan had surprised himself and Rick by asking so blatantly where his son was after walking all the fuck over Alexandria looking for his little serial killer. He'd checked all their usual spots and came up empty handed. He could tell Rick was itching to ask why the hell he cared about his son so much, but one look and he'd gestured vaguely and said something about him probably having gone over the wall.

 

That hadn't set off alarm bells in Negan's head, nope, not at all. He had tried to push it aside, because he knew his mini Albright was probably just fine, but he kept casting glances at the wall, wondering what Carl was doing out there.

 

Carl had sauntered over not that long after looking at Negan with that shared smugness of theirs like he knew he'd been running all over creation worried about him.

 

After that, Negan had taken to scanning the treeline as they pulled up to the gates or roaming about the woods if he doesn't see Carl inside the safe zone. Which was becoming irritating. Now that Carl knew Negan was hunting him, he was having a goddamn blast making chase, running and hiding from him. It wouldn't be worth the effort if he weren't so damn adorable.

 

+

 

Pilfered alcohol and pretzels had been split between them as they sat on the dock of an abandoned fish pond they'd stumbled across on one of their “walks”. Carl's feet had swung absentmindedly off the edge, wispy limbs getting longer every day. They were neck deep in booze, both scotch kissed and bourbon blushed. He hadn't been able to stop thinking about how beautiful the boy was, how badly he wished he could just lean over and kiss him. But there had been something he needed to say first.

 

'Your friends...I just wanted to say I'm sorry...'

 

He knew it wasn't good enough, that it probably sounded like he didn't really care, but Negan had to get it off his chest. Something about this kid made him feel all those soft things he'd pushed aside years ago. Carl's brows had furrowed in both sadness and anger and all that calm sweetness Negan had just been admiring vanished.

 

'Fuck you. Fuck you for bringing that up...I haven't let myself think about that since we... and now you—fuck you, okay?' The teen's words had slurred with their drinks, syllables muddling with intoxication.

 

'I'm sorry, kid—'

 

'Just fucking stop!' Carl had shoved him hard and it took Negan aback to be the subject of the kid's wrath.

 

'Is that what you need?' He'd always been a mean drunk and took a chance when he'd shoved Carl back. 'Come on! Hit me!' It had been worth the gamble. He had been on Negan in flash, throwing a sucker punch that he deserved and had him seeing stars in the middle of the day.

 

'You're cold. You're ruthless. You don't apologize.' Carl's chest heaved as his body had swayed unsteadily, trembling with anger. 'Don't ruin my image of you as a bad-ass.'

 

Carl had spat his own words right back at him with tears in his eyes and slumped down onto the rotting planks. Negan had sat beside him at a loss for words nursing his jaw while Carl did the same with the bourbon and they watched the sun go down in silence.

 

+

 

'I don't understand why you keep bothering me? Are you that lonely?'

 

They'd holed up in the back of a supply truck, hiding from the sun that was white heat in the light and black cool in the shade while they watched everyone working around them. A few of his men had cast curious glances Carl's direction but one glare had them minding their own fucking business.

 

'Maybe because I see potential in you.' Negan had sat leaning back against the truck, one knee up, arm resting on top, Lucille propped outside and momentarily forgotten against the bumper. Carl was pressed up against his knee half leaning on it. 'Maybe I see you becoming the next leader of the Saviors.'

 

Carl had given him a look of skepticism and doubt that Negan could tell was in some part self deprecating before looking back down at the truck bed. 'Yeah, right.'

 

'I mean it.' He'd leaned in closer, conspiratorial words clinging to his tongue, held back only by his grin, and taken Carl's chin between forefinger and thumb and lifted his gaze. He let the touch linger, thumb gently stroking the soft skin dangerously close to that full bottom lip Negan had come to love.

 

'I'm the enemy, Negan.' Carl hadn't moved to pull away, just allowed Negan to touch him.

 

'You don't have to be.' Negan had removed those last few inches left between them and pressed a kiss to the full lips he'd been dreaming about for weeks. No fantasy could compare to the yielding confection of reality. Maybe he had imagined it, but he swears a small whimper had escaped from Carl as he'd pulled back, lips sticking slightly.

 

At first, Carl had looked up at him completely vulnerable and open, his breathing slightly harder, cheeks a youthful shade of pink. He'd looked up at him and his first instinct had been want, give me more, and Negan felt his own pulse picking up at the possibility.

 

Almost as soon as he'd seen it, Carl seemed to remember where he was and who he was with and turned away, severing their small, tentative contact. The teen's face had hardened into that tough mask he loved to put on in front of Negan.

 

He'd wondered what the boy looked like when he slept, wondered at the idea of an unguarded, pliant Carl who wasn't constantly calculating and recalculating how he let the world view him to keep himself safe. He had felt then, that he'd caught a glimpse of just how delicate Carl truly was. For all his toughness, he was a fragile, porcelain-hearted boy.

 

'I'm the enemy and so are you.' The set of Carl's jaw had been determined, decided, as he'd hopped out of the back of the supply truck and melded into the small group of Alexandrians milling about.

 

+

 

'I've noticed you call me that a lot...baby boy. Why?'

 

This time, Negan had been leaning back against the siding of an empty house and Carl had been standing in front of him, demanding answers from Negan to questions he hadn't even taken the time to ponder for himself.

 

'It just fits.' He'd said simply and reached out and rested his palm against a sun-warm, freckled cheek.

 

'Is that what you want?' Carl had looked up at him through his thick, dark lashes and bitten his lip and god, it was a sin. A sin that might scorch and burn right through him if he lingered too long. 'Should I call you daddy?'

 

Negan's expression had to have been one of pure shock because the kid had laughed at him, long and loud and Negan wanted to shut that pretty mouth up. He'd taken Carl by the wrists and switched their positions, pinning him against the wall, hands above his head. Carl's pulse had hammered beneath the thumb pressed to the inside of his wrist and he blushed hard. That look of want had been right there, plain as day for Negan to see and he hadn't tried to cover it up either, trepidatiously showing Negan where he'd pinned his heart on his sleeve that day with a inward turn of his shoulders.

 

'Only if you want to, sweetheart.' And something had shifted then in Carl's eye, a darker color clouding the iris like ink in water, that had Negan smirking. He had leaned in close, voice barely a whisper, and rubbed their noses together, just a quick brush. 'You want a daddy to take care of you, angel?'

 

Carl's breath had caught in his chest and he'd surged forward, connecting their lips in a rough, inexperienced kiss with all the hormone laced passion of a teenager. Negan's eyebrows climbed up his forehead and he hadn't even closed his eyes until right before Carl pulled back and he was chasing after those plump, peach lips. He'd looked frightened, eye wide, and a little disgusted, not with Negan, but himself.

 

The boy had struggled and wriggled out of Negan's grasp before turning heel and running off to no doubtedly go hide somewhere and weather out the storm of guilt in him. Negan had been left standing there, fingertips to his lips, feeling like he had been scorched, marked with a brand the exact shape and size of Carl's perfect lips.

 

+

 

Today, once again, Carl has decided to make himself scarce and Negan was grudgingly trudging through the woods wondering where his little serial killer had gotten off to. He wants to talk to the kid. Since his last slip up, when he'd kissed Negan, he'd been sure to keep him at arms length, barely even talked to him except when he had to. And it was bullshit. He'd had about enough of these reindeer games and whether he liked it or not, he and Carl were going to sit and have a little fuckin' chitchat.

 

He finally catches sight of Carl between a copse of trees. The kid's movements are jerky and off and Negan picks up his pace. Then he hears it—the hollow growling of walkers and takes off in a run, grasping Lucille firmly. A handful of bodies are already laying scattered across the ground, head wounds gaping and oozing putrid, black slime onto the green of the forest floor. Carl is in the thick of it, taking out the undead like its just another Saturday morning for him. He's covered in who knows what from walkers, blood caked thick on his hands and dripping from the ends of his curls as he fends off two at once. He's got nothing more than a pocket knife and is kicking ass.

 

Negan debates hanging back for a minute to watch the kid in action, but a few too many biters are meandering closer to the fray for his liking. He comes up beside Carl and slams Lucille down on the head of one of the walkers and Carl jerks bodily to see him suddenly standing there. They make quick work of the small group with the kid doing most of the heavy lifting.

 

“I had them...” Carl quipped, wiping the bridge of his nose off on his shirt sleeve. They're both still panting like animals in the summer heat and the blood is quickly drying on their skin and clothes.

 

“Didn't look like that from where I was standing.” Negan dropped the bat to his side and pushed his hair back from his eyes.

 

“Am I supposed to say 'thank you' now or something?” The teen snorted, still not looking up from the oil painting of carnage he's created on the ground and across his chest and arms.

 

“It sure as shit wouldn't hurt for you to have some manners.”

 

“I didn't ask for your help in the first place.” Carl's eye finally flicks over to him and quickly dances away, like making full eye contact is against the rules.

 

“No, because you'd rather die out of pride like some dumbass than ask for help.” He strode closer to Carl and reached out, thumbing away a fleck of blood at the corner of his mouth, the affection of the act almost foreign. Carl didn't flinch from his touch like he expected him to, instead he held direct eye contact with Negan until his hand was back at his side.

 

“You look like shit, c'mon.” Carl turned and walked away, further into the woods, not looking back, knowing Negan would follow. It was fucking annoying how wrapped around his little finger Carl knew he had him.

 

“Watch your damn mouth.” Its a weak retort, but its the last word and he's putting his foot down, goddammit.

 

As they walk further into the woods, the sounds of the safe zone dwindle down to nothing and the quiet bubbling hush of a stream is starting to filter in. A little brook cuts across the landscape, just a few feet wide and deep, banked on either side by smooth river rock and turtle hole filled red clay mud. It could almost be called peaceful.

 

Carl stoops and starts splashing water onto his hands and forearms and Negan can't help but note how small he looks hunched over like that. The teen peeled out of his flannel, wiping the drops of blood from his shirt with a dirty sleeve dipped in the cool water. He wonders why the kid is bothering to clean up out here when he has a shower, with hot water he might add, just inside the walls.

 

“Your daddy not like you coming out here?” Negan intones as he bends and washes his hands and then starts cleaning Lucille. He notes too the distance Carl is keeping between them.

 

“...no.” Carl says simply, brows furrowed as he tries to clean blood off his boots. “He thinks I need more practice.” He points quickly to his eye and both his voice and the gesture are filled with disdain. “But I feel like if I don't come out here, I'll forget...”

 

“Forget what?”

 

“What its like. To be outside...to fight...” Some of the tension bleeds from his shoulders as he lets out a heavy sigh. “...to survive.”

 

“From what I can see, you're pretty damn proficient at keeping yourself alive. Just you and that pocket knife?” Negan whistled low, a little appreciative tune. “Baby boy, that was rad as hell.”

 

“You don't have to be nice just because I'm a kid.” He casts a weighted glance in Negan's direction. “And if I'm so proficient, why did you step in”

 

“Because I want to _make sure_ you survive this hellscape.” He met Carl's gaze and leaned in closer. “And I'm not being nice because you're a kid. I meant what I said. Hell, half my men couldn't do what you did and that's saying something.”

 

“That your men are all incompetent pricks?” Carl smirks, doesn't even try to hide it, just bites his lip and looks up at the older man.

 

Negan's face falls into something stern, cold and he lowers his voice into a threatening tone. “Watch it, sweetheart, you're already on thin ice with me. I won't have you insulting my men.” To his delight, Carl's eye goes wide and he honest to god looks worried which is exactly what he was hoping for. After a moment of unbreaking, intense eye contact, he can't keep it together anymore and chuckles. “I'm just fucking with you. Yeah, they're a bunch of asshats.”

 

“You're such a dick sometimes, I swear.”

 

“So, what had you out here taking out all that pent up rage on a punching bag of rot?” Negan ran his tongue along his teeth. “Don't try and tell me you aren't mad because, by now, I sure as shit know what that looks like.”

 

Carl flinches and gives him a look as if to say 'you don't know me' but it fades almost as soon as it appears. He bites his lip before he speaks. “You.”

 

He knows that Carl means the way Negan makes him feel because Carl is feeling all those soft things too and hates it even more than he does. He hadn't put it in so many words, but through their odd, shared behaviors, he knows what it looks like to be struggling to fight what felt both so natural it was frightening and made you feel weak all at once.

 

When Negan leans in, hand raised to reach out and touch, because he needs to touch, Carl tilts his face and looks away like he is expecting Negan to wipe more gore from his face. But Negan catches his chin and this time, he lets his thumb caress that wonderful pout and Carl is holding his breath, eye slowly sliding up to him, waiting to see what he's going to do. He holds the boy's gaze as he slowly moves to press their lips together, that want sitting right on the surface again.

 

Carl shoves the older man away and quickly rises to his feet. “What do you want, Negan?”

 

“To kiss you, I thought that was pretty obvious.” Negan pushes up onto his feet with a tired sigh. “Are we just gonna keep doing this? Pretending like we don't want each other? Well, you pretending like you don't want me?”

 

“That's not what I meant.” Carl growls and brandishes the pocket knife, putting the blade to Negan's throat. “What do you _want_?” 

 

Negan studies the boy for a moment, looks him over trying to figure out how, in all this, his intentions haven't been made perfectly clear, why Carl even feels the need to ask this question. But it occurs to him, he's been approaching this as an adult, as someone who had lived a “normal” life before this new world came to be. He'd dated, graduated from high school, driven a car, got shit faced on his twenty-first. He'd  _lived_ and he'd experienced life. Carl? Carl hadn't. He only knew this world, only knew that everything came at a price and that people were only as close to you so much as they could use you. 

 

“I want you.” Negan looks down at Lucille, still clutched in his hand and drops her unceremoniously onto the ground.

 

“Want me? What? Like you want to fuck me?” The teen's brows scrunch together and he's glaring up at the older man.

 

“I didn't say that, you did.” Negan smirks. “Get your mind out of the damn gutter.”

 

“Negan—” He grips the handle tighter, pushing the blade in harder until it bites.

 

“I want you any way I can have you...” Negan rushes out before he pisses off Carl any further. “...I'll take whatever you give me.” Carl seems to ponder that for a moment, thoughts flitting through his mind visible in the way his eye darts all over Negan's face. And maybe he's imagining it, but he thinks he sees a little smile beginning to form at the edges of the boy's lips.

 

“And what if I want to fuck you?”

 

“Whoa there, Lone Ranger, lets not get too ahead of ourselves...” He knows his own grin is salacious, inappropriate to be aimed at someone so young. “...besides, I think you should probably learn to catch before you try pitching.”

 

“You're such an old pervert.” Carl glares up at him, smirk turning cold and a little cruel. There's his little serial killer. “Trying to seduce and fuck a teenager.” As he's speaking, he's walking Negan back, knife still at his throat, until his back connects with the rough bark of a tree.

 

“Usually I don't let people talk to me this way unless my dick is already in them.” Negan licks his lips and makes sure Carl sees how delicious he looks to him. That want is still right there but now its something more desperate, more demanding and Negan wants to eat him up.

 

Carl huffs a laugh through his nose, full lips parting slowly. His voice is so breathy when he speaks, Negan wonders if he even realizes or if his desire is really just that strong. “I don't think you'll even have to be inside me for me to make you come...don't think I'll even have to touch you...”

 

“Really now?” Negan bends forward, pressing his stubbled neck into the blade and it startles Carl causing him to lean back. He sees his moment and smacks Carl's wrist and the pocket knife falls to the ground. He grabs the teen about the waist, one hand sliding into the back pocket of his worn jeans and drags their hips flush until their mutual desire is undeniable, bulges straining against denim. “Big words for such a _little_ boy.”

 

“ _Fuck_ , you're already this hard over me? Won't be a problem...” Carl is breathless, letting Negan pull him closer, arms hovering at his sides, testing the waters with a slow roll of his skinny hips that makes him shudder. “...fucking knew it, you perv.” 

 

“Listen here, darlin',” Negan reaches up and flicks the sheriff hat off the boy's head and pulls their bodies tighter together. “I may be a dirty old man, but you’re just as hard as I am right now…so don’t act all smug with me…” He slots his thigh between Carl's and can feel his erection pressing into him, just as hard as Negan's is rubbing against his hip. “I could do so much worse than leave you hanging…give you a taste of the blue balls you been givin’ me…sacheting those goddamn hips all over town when I show up…”

 

“I don't sachet—!”

 

“Those cowboy boots and daisy dukes? You kiddin' me? Don’t think I haven’t noticed the little displays you put on for me, angel…” Negan continues on as if he hadn't heard Carl, maintaining steady eye contact. He grabs the teen's ass hard making him whimper. “...you want my dick in you just as badly as I want to put it in you.”

 

“...you talk too damn much.” Carl grumbles and looks away, cheeks the color of ripe strawberries. Negan chuckles at that, earning him another glare.

 

“ _Just say it_...” He leans into the teen's face until they're standing cheek to cheek. The rasp of his whisper sets goosebumps into Carl's pale skin. “Quit bein' so damn stubborn and just say it...admit that you want this...want me.”

 

Carl swallows thick and shuts his eye tight, seals his lips in a thin line, like if he squeezes them shut hard enough, Negan won't be there looking at him with that intense stare. His breath catches when the older man guides his hips into a harder, more intense rhythm. He lets out a quiet moan and his small hands grasp at Negan's leather jacket, holding himself upright just as much as he's pulling him closer.

 

“Goddamn, you are fuckin' _stubborn_!” Negan growls making Carl shiver. “Maybe we should just stop—“

 

“No!” The little outburst startles Negan, but Carl looks even more shocked, can't believe he let himself say that one, damning word.

 

“C'mon...its okay...” He drops his voice, soothing and sweet, murmuring against the soft skin of Carl's cheek, halting their bodies. “This is just between you and me, baby...no one else is here but us.” The teen's gaze jerks up to meet his and its like watching a dam break, that white knuckled control Carl sinks his hands into like talons slowly gives way. “ _Its okay._ ”

 

“I...I don't want to stop...” He finally admits.

 

“Why?” Negan moves his lips closer to the boy's, kissing a turn of their heads away.

 

“Be-because...you know...”

 

“I'm afraid I don't unless you tell me.”

 

“...I want you...” He looks up at Negan with so much innocence and neediness, his heart is pounding, feels his veins pulse with it. “I...I like you.”

 

“I know you do, baby.” Negan presses his lips to Carl's, slipping his tongue into his mouth, tasting every bit of his nectary sweetness. He's fucking perfect. The sense of rightness Negan feels holding Carl to him is terrifying in its perfection. He's never felt anything like it before and never wants to let it go now that he has. He bites his lips, sucks them, devours the boy's mouth, tasting every inch of it.

 

“Negan...” Carl pants his name between their open mouths, kiss drunk, lips slick and full like a juice dripping down your hand when you take a bite, split peach and its filthy. He tentatively starts rocking his hips into Negan's thigh again, wrapping his arms about the older man's neck.

 

“Want me to make you feel good, Carl? Is that something you been thinkin' about?” Negan thinks maybe he should feel guilty over how that coaxing purr seems to turn Carl into a writhing little ball of greedy need, but then the teen is reaching between them, shyly pressing his palm into Negan's erection and he's spouting blasphemy to cover up his sins. “Shit...goddamn.”

 

“H-hold on...” Carl's voice and hands are shaking as he unzips his jeans and pushes them down just enough to pull his small, rigid cock out over the band of his underwear. “...can we...?” He watches Negan's face, gauging his every reaction, scrutinizing every minute movement of muscle, as he takes the older man's hand and brings it down to his leaking prick.

 

Negan is a little shocked at Carl's forwardness, he knew the kid was bold, but damn. And he feels like he's gonna cream his fuckin' jeans at that surprisingly soft voice paired with the unsurity of Carl's gaze. This is the Carl he's been craving to see, all full of pliancy and youthful warmth and insecurity, completely off the cuff and open. He wraps his fingers around Carl's dick and starts slowly stroking, pulling a high pitched needy sound from his beautiful boy.

 

“That good?” He smiles at Carl's eager nod, eye closed tight again.

 

When Carl's breathing begins to even out and doesn't look like his knees are going to give out, he gently tugs at Negan's zipper. “Can I...?”

 

“Of course.” Carl's thin fingers are fumbling in anticipation and nervousness and eventually he takes pity on the kid and helps him pull his dick out. Carl gasps once he sees it in full, hand hovering for a moment before he actually touches it.

 

“Its so...” Carl's cheeks stain rose petal pink and red again.

 

“Big? Why thank you, darlin'!” Negan shoots him a smirk and a wink.

 

“I was going to say 'intimidating'.” A small smile curls his lips and he manages a quiet laugh. Negan squeezes down on his length and flips that laugh into a moan. “Fuck...”

 

Carl's touches to his cock are featherlight and too gentle at first, but he isn't about to complain, not when they're finally getting close to somewhere and something intimate between them. As his confidence builds, he pulls harder, squeezes rougher, making Negan groan in appreciation. The kid watches where their hands are working each other over with rapt attention for the longest before looking up at Negan again, begging for more kisses by mouthing at his lips with that decadent pout.

 

He's making all these wonderful cottony soft sounds and flexing his body around Negan's like he can't get close enough. Negan is making damn sure to commit every little gasp, whimper and moan to memory because he still isn't sure that the boy won't run from him again once this is all over, but he pushes those thoughts aside. He and Carl are here now because he _likes_ Negan. That thought alone is enough to push him right to edge.

 

“Negan...” Carl whines his name out and its so syrupy sweet it makes Negan's teeth hurt. Negan knows he's playing dirty when he moves up to fist Carl's long, chocolate hair and tugs. The teen moans wantonly as his neck is exposed to Negan's teeth and lips that are gifting him with an emulous choker of purple and pink. The shock of pleasure makes Carl's hand still until Negan rolls his hips up into his small hand.

 

“Shit.” Negan's eyes slip shut for a second as Carl redoubles his efforts and he grins wide, dimples deepening. “You're doing so good...making me feel so good.” Carl makes a small sound at his praise and Negan keeps pouring it on, telling him how beautiful he is, how fuckin' bad-ass he is, slipping compliments inbetween kisses and every word of it is true, none of the placating, pretty-empty whispers he gives his wives, he wants to show Carl exactly how he feels in every way he can.

 

Carl chokes out a sob as his hips buck up and he's trembling his body is so wound tight, so close...

Negan wraps an arm around him in some semblance of a hug, tucking his face into his neck with a genuine tenderness he scarcely believed he was capable of. “Come on...come for daddy...”

 

And Carl's coming hard, right there in his hand, coating his fingers and the trim of his grey jeans in white. He's absolutely beautiful. Skin and bitten lips stained cherry wine and he's clinging hard as he shakes apart. Carl's hand goes lax around his cock and Negan can't begrudge him that and wraps his hand around the boy's, Carl's touch but his guidance, and its so damn good. He moans as thick ropes of his cum striped the teen's hand, some landing on his softening member and shirt and it looks the way a job well done feels.

 

They both droop against each other, limp in the heat of the summer evening, panting to catch their breath and dirty again like before, but neither of them make a move to clean up, not yet. They're still breathing each other in when Carl pulls his face from the crook of Negan's neck and when their gazes meet, its like they're seeing each other for the first time all over again. Negan sees the glimmer of adoration in Carl's cool lake-blue iris and he's not sure what Carl sees, but it must be what he's looking for because he's leaning in slowly to brush their lips together again.

 

“You ready to head back?” Negan straightens out his coat and watches Carl do the same with his shirt and flannel.

 

“Not really...but we probably should.” He's looking down at the ground, at Lucille discarded and nearly hidden in the tall grass brimming the small river, hasn't really looked up since they reluctantly pulled apart.

 

“Mm.” Negan intones, watching him before glancing down at Carl's sheriff hat sitting upside down near his boot. He stoops and picks it up, dusting it off. He sees that the kid's bandages are askew, and much as he may hate them, Carl needed them. Carl freezes when he initially reaches out to touch his face, but relaxes when he sees Negan is just helping. He finishes quickly and plops the hat back on the kid's head.

 

Carl looks up at him curiously for a moment, like he can't believe Negan is capable of such tenderness despite what just happened. He bends and hesitantly grabs the barb wire covered bat and hands it back to Negan. “So, ah, this is it then?”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“This.” The boy motions between them. “It was just this once, right? Now that we've...we're done, right?” Its the note of hopefulness in his tone, that he knows he'd outright deny if pointed out, the way he swallows thickly and still refuses to make eye contact that has Negan feeling an odd mixture of frustration and sadness.

 

“Baby boy,” Negan swaggers closer and cups his cheek, forcing Carl to look at him, see him. He searches Carl's face for a moment, letting him feel the weight and ephemerality of the moment. “You couldn't get rid of me if you tried.”

 

Carl grins and its pretty close to being back to its usual teasing coquettishness, but there's a underlying bashfulness to it in the way he ducks his head slightly and a soft blush covers his cheeks. He reaches out and grasps Negan's shirt, holding onto it. “Then don't give me a reason to try.”

 

“Goddamn, I love you.” Negan's grin is nearly a mirror of Carl's as he kisses him one last time before they go back to their lives and pretending to be strangers.

 


	2. Video Games

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carl recalls some formative moments that lead to the relationship he and Negan have now while taking cover with him overnight in a rundown trailer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again and Happy Chocolate and Smoochies Day, everyone! 
> 
> So here we are at (what more than likely will be) the last installment of the Love and Violence series! I can't believe I actually accomplished everything that I wanted to with this series! After ch1, I really wanted to do something similar from Carl's POV and with it possibly being the last part, it took a long time for me to find a balance? that I liked. I put a lot of love into this one, so I really hope you all enjoy reading it. Thank you to everyone who has stuck with me and been so supportive throughout this journey. Its been much more fun because of you! 
> 
> A special thank you to the darlin' of my dreams thegreensorceress for encouraging me and helping me find my confidence when I lost sight of it. 
> 
> Comments and kudos are better than boxes of chocolates *wiggles eyebrows*
> 
>  
> 
> //Also trigger warning for a brief mention of self harm//

The rasping growl of walkers was right behind him and Carl's lungs burn with the effort of trying to stay at least a few yards ahead of the small herd. His bangs are plastered to his forehead along with his bandaging. Sweat is running down his face stinging his good eye, blurring his already obscured vision as he books it into the darkened forest.

 

“Keep in a straight line! We should see it coming up soon!” Negan barks, just as winded as he is, as he ran up along side him. Lucille is clutched tight in his fist, covered in gore and ribbons of skin from some of the walkers when they had been stupid and felt braver.

 

Why did they think it was a good idea to try and scavenge a grocery store so close to dusk? He knew exactly why—cockiness. They'd been on such a good streak that day, found a nice stash of canned goods and homemade jarred jelly and okra pickles, Carl's favorite, and hardly had any trouble with the undead. So of course when Negan had rocked back on his heels, hips jutted forward, and pointed to the grocery store with his barbed wire wrapped piece of ash, Carl had shrugged, feeling confident and followed him inside. Their streak seemed to be holding up until they got to the back of the store where they kept stock. Not only were most of the shelves and pallets empty, they had a little welcome party waiting for them just inside the swinging double doors. They managed to take down a few, but a few turned into a dozen, which turned into more than Carl could count and they had been forced to turn tail and retreat into the woods.

 

The trailer he and Negan had stumbled upon earlier pops into Carl's periphery on the right just ahead of them. He pointed to it and shouts over the din of hungry moaning. “There!”

 

They turn and haul ass to the shanty trailer. Carl nearly trips over a fallen log, narrowly clearing it. Negan cursed as his knuckles bash against the rough bark of a tree while they ran. They both are panting hard as they hurry up the three creaky steps of the trailer, the older man wrenching the door open and practically throwing Carl inside. Negan quickly bolts and barricades the door with a broken recliner from the living room while Carl covers the windows and draws the blinds on the few windows that still had them.

 

A few walkers slam their bodies into the side of the trailer, drawing more with their incessant and near cacophonous growling. They were trapped. At least for now. Nothing to do but wait and stay quiet until the walkers grew disinterested and left.

 

“Are you alright?” Lucille drops to the floor as he strides across the narrow room to look the teenager over. His hands are rough as he grabs Carl's body, checking for scrapes and bruises, and worse yet, any bite marks.

 

“I'm okay, Negan. Really.” Carl assures as he steps back. He's still trying to make his lungs work properly, stop them from trying to reject the oxygen they so desperately needed. Falling to his knees, he flops back on the floor, looking up at the ceiling, pitch black in the darkness. The next thing to pop into his line of sight was Negan's face. He put a hand up to push the older man away, but Negan caught his wrist.

 

“Don't fuss. Let me.” Negan warned, making Carl pause as he angles over him. He cranes his neck down and brushes his lips against the boy's. The kiss slowly grows deeper, more possessive, an electric sensation when pearl perfect teeth bite and suck at his lower lip, adrenaline still pumping hot and fresh through his veins. When Negan pulls back, Carl gasps and tries to pull him back in for another, but his efforts are halted as Negan chuckles and rolls onto his back beside the teen. “In a minute, alright? This old man needs to catch his breath.”

 

“Old is right.” Carl scoffs throat protesting the action.

 

“Watch it, princess...I'll put you over my knee.” Negan's eyes are closed, but his dimples are on full display matched with a mischievous grin.

 

Unbidden, images of him bent over Negan's lap or, oh fuck, his desk back at The Sanctuary, flash through Carl's mind. Negan holding him down with a hand to his lower back, making him count each strike...

  


“Shit, really?”

  


Carl jumps when Negan speaks again, knowing he'd gone quiet for a beat too long. Negan is looking at him with that same, ever present amusement he seems to view everything in life with and Carl's blush only darkened. He'd been caught.

  


“That something we should explore, darlin' ?” Negan's eyes darken as they slide down to Carl's lips.

  


“You wish.” It's weak and his voice cracks, but he has the excuse of running for his life and exhaustion.

  


“Mm, I think its you doin' the wishin' here.” Negan turns to look at Carl, still smirking, so cocky, so irritatingly sure of himself. What had he ever seen in this man that made him decide he was a good idea?

  


+

  


The soda had been welcomed.

  


The gameboy had been...sweet.

  


The cigarettes had been fun.

  


The shorts and t-shirt had been a test, a need to satiate idle curiosity. No one paid attention to him like Negan did. Everywhere he went, he felt dark, cunning eyes tracking his every move.

  


He'd seen a handful of skin mags, naughty glimpses at the adult he wasn't supposed to know anything about, wasn't even supposed to get old enough to experience, and knew that for whatever reason, men liked women in short shorts and cowboy boots. It had been three parts naivete and one part sheer will that had put him in those shorts and that Pabst Blue Ribbon shirt, just like the one the busty blonde woman wore in a decaying magazine he'd seen years ago.

  


He wasn't a woman by any means, but this what men wanted, right? This is what that taboo four letter word “sexy” was supposed to be, right? His dad's spare pair of dusty old boots had topped the look off and while he felt ridiculous, he had to know. What would Negan see when he looked at him?

  


The look that had crossed over Negan's face at first had seemed amused, but then he bit his lip and the way he looked Carl over from head to toe was like he was licking up the side of a melting, soft serve ice cream cone, a broad, hungry lick to keep it from dripping onto your fingers. He looked like he wanted to devour him and that gave Carl a rush of power in its purest sense, everything dwindled down animal magnetism and pheromones.

  


+

  


The summer had been long, the heat unbearable, sheets sticking to your skin and tangling irritably around your legs hot. Night had usually been Carl's reprieve, the cool of the evening breeze lulling him into a rare state of calm where he could actually sleep. But that night, he'd been restless, constantly moving. He had rolled onto his stomach, burying his face in a stifling pillow, when he felt an unusual and uncomfortable hardness pressing into his low stomach. It was odd considering he was rarely calm enough for his body to have such a reaction. He had tried to think of anything other than the aching hardness between his thighs, but after a few moments of agitated huffing, he had pushed his sleep pants down.

  


The surge of pleasure he had gotten from just that first touch was foreign to him; he'd only done this a few times and each time had been an annoyance. After he'd found a rhythm he liked, he let his mind wander as it tended to do. He'd briefly wondered what he might have jerked off to if the apocalypse had never happened. As it was, he had little to work with. He'd usually picture faceless bodies with features he appreciated all depending on his mood at the moment. Sometimes it was someone big with a strong chest and thick arms like Abraham, someone to make him feel safe and small. Sometimes it was someone with full hips, soft thighs and a small bust like Sasha, someone to protect and feel just a little dominant over when he was feeling strong.

  


Among all the swirling thoughts, one thing kept standing out to him. At first, it had been words 'hey, darlin', 'well, look at you, little serial killer', then flashes--of dimples, perfect teeth, the thrill of danger, oak-moss colored intelligent eyes that bored right into you, a salt and pepper beard, a leather jacket and an indispensable barbbed wire wrapped bat.

  


That first whimper had escaped him when he'd imagined those eyes on him in that moment, watching him pleasure himself. He'd imagined what Negan might say, 'Damn, baby boy, you this worked up over me? Got your little cock leaking?' God, being around Negan had given him a terrible new vocabulary to work with. Nonetheless, he had bitten his lip as his hand moved faster, picturing Negan knelt down beside him, running his gloved hand down his stomach to his aching member, wrapping his big hand around it. The Negan in his fantasy had kissed him as he stroked him, hungry and wet. Then his mouth traveled lower and lower and...

  


Carl had to bite hard at the inside of his cheek to keep the moan inside, still coming out stifled through his nose, sounding embarrassingly high pitched and girly to his ears. His breathing had become ragged wondering what the hell possessed his mind into thinking Negan was good fantasy material. Was he that fucked up?

  


But laying there, sheets stuck to his back, one sock foot hanging out from under the covers, he hadn't been nearly ashamed of himself as he should've been.

  


+

  


But that first kiss.

  


That's what had sealed Carl's fate. He wasn't sure what he'd been thinking, not really, when he'd climbed into the bed of that truck with Negan. Leaning pressed up against his knee had felt like putting his hand in a lion's mouth and it gave him a thrill shiver when he wasn't bitten. He had known they were growing closer somehow for a while now, but how exactly he couldn't say. No one made him feel the way Negan did. No one ever had and no one since.

  


'I'm the enemy, Negan.' That touch to his chin, the rough callouses of his thumb moving back and forth just beneath his lip, had his senses on high alert. Something in the back of his mind screamed danger at him, but he couldn't seem to move, like the lure of an angler fish in the blackest ocean.

  


'You don't have to be.' Then lips, demanding, rapacious lips that though their touch had been gentle, were starved for affection, tried to drink him down. This man _craved_ Carl and that's what had him pulling away. It scared the shit out of him that someone could want him so badly. And it scared him even more that that was what he wanted too.

 

He'd jumped down and hurried home, too overwhelmed with everything going through his head. He collapsed onto his bed, well palette, and threw and arm over his face.

  


Why? Why would anyone want a broken, patchwork doll of a boy like him? He was more busted seams and thread than actual doll anymore. And Negan was...

  


+

  


Finally, in the woods, when Carl had let himself break down, when he'd let go and admitted those shameful things he'd only allowed himself to think under the cover of darkness, he knew something had inevitably taken root.

  


_'Quit bein' so damn stubborn and just say it...admit that you want this...want me.'_

  


_'C'mon...its okay...this is just between you and me..no one else is here but us...Its okay.'_

  


And when he'd said it, it really had been. Negan hadn't lied to him when he'd said it was okay. The world kept turning and time kept marching on even if it had felt like for the briefest of moments it had all stopped for Carl. That moment had bore the distinct feeling of the earth spinning in reverse as Carl, for once, selfishly took what he wanted. He'd let his body guide his actions and couldn't be upset with himself for it. He was so tired of trying to maintain this sense of utter control, so exhausted trying to keep it all together all by himself, that he had gladly handed control over to Negan for a while. Something in him trusted the older man to just let him rest.

  


_'...I want you...I...I like you.'_

  


_'I know you do, baby.'_

  


His body had been opened up to a whole new realm of feeling that day. Sure, he'd touched himself a few times, but nothing could compare to the way it felt to have Negan's hands on his body. He'd whimpered and cried out just for him, every sound he plucked from him a shuddery thank you, a desperate sounding I need you, need this. Orgasm had been earth shattering. Negan was like a new drug coursing through his veins and he was already hooked.

 

_“So, ah, this is it then?”_

_“What do you mean?”_

 

_"This. It was just this once, right? Now that we've...we're done, right?”_

 

_"Baby boy, you couldn't get rid of me if you tried.”_

 

_“Then don't give me a reason to try.”_

+

  


The Little Serial Killer. The Rad-ass Bad-ass. Kid.

  


He knew that's what Negan called him, behind his back, whenever anyone else was part of the world they always seemed to create for themselves any time they were in proximity of one another. It was undeniably affectionate in his own way, but still professional, as if propriety were still a thing.

  


To his face, Carl was darlin', angel, sugar, sweetheart, baby boy. Those nicknames never failed to put a blush high on his cheek bones or leave him without an annoying fluttering sensation in his stomach. He hated it. Or well, at least that's what he told himself every time Negan left him standing there feeling like a gooey mess of bubblegum-pink stickiness pulled taught to snapping, held between sharp teeth.

  


But he never called Negan anything other than Negan or occasionally, 'hey you,' nothing like the romantic mushy stuff the older man called him.

  


They'd been sitting outside in Alexandria, a calm and quiet evening with crickets chirping and frogs singing. He had been leaning back against the railing on his porch, arms crossed over his chest, watching Negan sip lemonade, splayed across the porch rocker like he owned the whole damn block. He had smiled lazily up at Carl, eyes warm and half lidded. He wondered if maybe he'd made his drink a little more adult when he'd gone back inside for a refill.

  


'What do you even like about me?' He'd blurted the words out before he'd really thought them through and immediately felt embarrassed.

  


'I like everything about you. Sweet baby boy, vindictive little serial killer, I like it all.' He'd pushed up out of his chair and somehow managed to swagger those few steps to were Carl was standing. He pulled Carl's hips against his and Carl knew what was about to happen, out here, where anyone could see. Still, when Negan's lips had brushed against his, his beard ticklish to his nose, Carl hadn't pulled away. Negan's thumb grazed over his too warm cheek, something between a smile and a smirk bowing his lips upward. 'Look at you, sweetheart. I wish you could see how damn pretty you look when you blush.'

  


The petname had Carl somewhat coming back to himself, shaking that peach-fuzz haze out of his mind. He'd ducked his head, both in shyness and thought, before looking back up. He reached out and touched Negan's chest, felt his heat beneath his white t-shirt. And he told himself it was just playing.

  


'Thanks, honey.'

  


Negan had smiled, so big and genuine, Carl had felt his heart pound with it and had begun to think he was foolish for ever thinking this was a game.

  


+

  


'Just like that. Nice and easy, follow through.'

  


'This is stupid.'

  


'You're just saying that because you suck at this.' Negan's grin had been little boy mischievous that day, directing Carl's hips into a turn. He was once again toeing that odd line that they'd drawn somewhere in the sand between shameless flirt and something akin to a father figure. Rick had never taught Carl how to play baseball or even played catch with him. He couldn't blame him with how things had been since, but here was this near stranger, utterly offended by the fact that he'd never once played baseball teaching him how and he didn't know how to feel about it. 'Use your hips like this.'

  


Carl had huffed, standing there in the middle of an overgrown baseball field on home plate, a bat that wasn't Lucille in hand. He had lofted the bat, ready to take another go at hitting the ball, inexperience combined with his messed up depth perception making the task twice as hard. 'Alright.' He'd sighed, sounding grossly teenagery to himself. He'd wanted to add 'Dad' or 'Daddy' on the end of that, but since Negan called himself that, he'd decided the older man would've liked it too much.

  


Negan jogged back over to the mound. 'Here it comes.' He'd wound up like he was about to throw a ball that was meant to split Carl's bat in half, but as he brought his foot down, his body softened and he threw the ball underhanded.

  


Carl had swung the bat and wouldn't you know it, it finally connected with the ball in a loud crack that hadn't sounded real to his ears. Negan had ducked, narrowly avoiding getting hit with the ball and Carl had just stood there, staring in disbelief.

  


'Go, boy! Run!'

  


With a start, Carl had come back to himself and he'd taken off, jogging to first, which was a broken hubcap, while Negan walked casually in the direction of where the ball had landed.

  


'Keep going!' Negan cupped his hands around his mouth. 'Its a fly ball! Over the fence! Go go go!'

  


Carl had tried not to grin as he took off, rounding second, an old bike tire, then third, a faded stop sign.

  


'Slide! The pitcher has the ball!'

  


Negan had began leisurely running towards him and in the moment, the thrill of the chase had set into his bones so strongly, that he obeyed if only to dodge Negan's touch. He'd popped up prepared to take off again, but Negan had been faster, hands on his waist, lifting him up like it was nothing. Negan's smile had been exuberant.

  


Their peaceful moment had been short lived, broken by the sound of a corpse shambling their way, drawn to their excessive noise. Carl had reached for his knife immediately, but Negan stopped him, shook his head and stepped up behind him, placing the bat back in Carl's hands.

  


'I want you to know what it feels like...' His low voice had been right there, rough with smoke and hypnotic.

  


He knows he shouldn't have been as turned on by that as he had been. Angry maybe, understandably, but all he felt was a bright shock of arousal. Having Negan's hard body pressed against his back, his large hands wrapped around Carl's on the bat, his steady breath seeping from between his parted lips, had Carl melting.

  


'Follow through.' Negan had kept his eyes on the thing, hawk like and sharp; Carl knew without even looking, as it slowly approached, skeletal hands already reaching. 'Here we go, baby boy.' The older man had lifted their arms together, his grip making them move as one, bat back over their shoulders and then wham! The hardened piece of oak collided with brittle bone and Carl had never felt anything like it. Blood splattered back onto his face and hands as they'd beat the walker into an pile of brain matter and bone.

  


'Damn, that was fun.' Negan had panted a laugh, again right next to his ear.

  


Carl had turned in the circle of his arms and looked up at Negan, swallowing hard when he saw the older man's face covered in sea spray-like of flecks of blood. He'd wondered if he looked the same as he fisted Negan's shirt collar and drug him in for a kiss that tasted like pennies. Strong hands had cupped his face and carded into his hair, tugging him closer.

  


'I take it you agree, baby boy?' That name again. It had been spoken around a grin and Carl couldn't be upset about it if he tried.

  


'Shut up and kiss me.' Carl had smirked, desperate hands grabbing at the lapels of a worn motorcycle jacket.

  


+

  


Then they were in the pool room at the Sanctuary, smiling and pretending to play while they cleverly danced around each other. Touching but not touching. Smirking when they did brush against each other. Finally, Carl had given up on the game entirely. They both knew what they were really there for.

  


'Come here, angel.' Negan's voice had been smoky like the scotch he'd held in his hand. He'd placed a hand to Carl's low back and jerked him close, kissing him deep, showing him what scotch tasted like. His tongue left a lingering taste of fire roasted honeys and apples.

  


Carl had been lifted up onto the pool table and Negan made a home standing between his spread thighs. The kissing grew deeper and harsher, a decided edge of desperation in their movements. Almost without thinking, Carl had hurriedly fumbled the buttons of his flannel undone, needing to feel Negan's hands on his skin. He'd whimpered when large hands had snaked under the fabric, rubbing down his back and coming to a rest on his hips.

  


Negan's thumb had grazed the bullet scar he'd gotten on Hershel's farm and suddenly he'd gotten nervous, remembering how many scars littered his body. None of Negan's wives' bodies looked the way his did, battered and worn. The scar on his shoulder where he'd fallen and cut it on a broken window while scrabbling away from a walker throbbed. The crescent moon shaped scar on his thigh where he'd gotten so deep in his own self loathing after his mom's death that he'd tried to cut it out with his hunting knife glowed right through the denim. The scrape that never healed right when he'd tripped on a slippery river rock, the faint white circles and dots from the cigarettes the man touching him had gifted him with, not knowing their true purpose. They all had ached like a burning trail of connect the dots ending with his eye, proof of his monstrous insides displayed for the world to see.

  


'I think its bad-ass. Just like this.' Negan spoke as if he had read Carl's thoughts, had kissed the edge of his bandage, not taking his hands off Carl for a moment. 'Fuck kid, what haven't you seen?'

  


Just those simple words had felt like a bandage coated in a soothing balm placed right over all those ugly, painful things his body reminded him of. This definitely wasn't just a game of curiosity anymore.

  


+

  


The quiet neighborhood he and Negan had stumbled across on the outskirts of D.C. had been perfect for their first run together. Everyone but the dead had cleared out and Negan's men had been through the area before, so there really wasn't any danger. It was more an excuse to spend time and see how they worked together.

  


After the third house, the sun sweltering on Carl's fair skin, Negan had told him to go take a break. He had been grateful to be allowed to dodge work for a minute and as soon as he had spotted it, he knew the old tire swing was the perfect place to sway and forget, if only for a moment. Looking around, the place had a low fence stretching around the perimeter, basic chain link, not much of a defense, but enough to keep the undead at bay. He kept an ear out for walkers, but otherwise luxuriated, falling limp into the sun-warm rubber.

  


'Hey, there beautiful.'

  


Carl had slowly peeled his eyelids open to see Negan standing over him, blotting out the sun and smiling fondly. The older man's eyes had lingered on the small patch of exposed skin where his shirt, Negan's grey shirt, had slipped off his shoulder. 'Hey there yourself, handsome.'

  


'Ooh, you think I'm handsome?' Negan had chuckled and gave the old swing a push. The chains creaked in disuse, gummed up with orange and red.

  


'Don't spoil the mood. I'm relaxing.' Carl had opened his eye just long enough to shoot him a cool glare, before shutting it again to enjoy being pushed around.

  


'I can see that...you look like one of those lioness in the documentaries. You know, the ones that look half melted laying on a branch.' Negan had made a silly face, something that was probably meant to be a sleeping lion, tongue lolling out of the side of his mouth. Carl laughed, really laughed, something bright and almost forgotten to his ears and throat. Negan had been looking down at him again when he'd opened his eye, affection etched into every crease and glossing his eyes in a new softness Carl was just beginning to understand.

  


Carl had reached up, brushing fingertips over salt and pepper scruff, giving it a light scratch that Negan leaned into with a contented hum. The normalcy of these moments left Carl feeling both pleasant and unsettled. He loved how easy things were between them, but knew it was ephemeral and fleeting; he wanted them to be like this always.

  


Negan had turned his face, angling it slightly to kiss the tender inside of a palm. The chirp of cicadas had rose behind them, a gentle breeze had rustled the leaves and all had been peaceful for few fast flowing minutes. He'd let his hand fall lazily back to hang off the old swing and his eye fall shut again, nearly drifting off in the safety of Negan's presence. The sun shone in full across his face again as Negan moved away from him, walking away but not too far, only to be dampened again as he came back.

  


'Open.' Carl had gone to open his eye but was corrected. 'Ah ah, mouth open, eye closed.'

  


Nervously, Carl had licked his lips but obeyed, opening them a fraction of an inch. A finger covered in rich, tangy sweetness skated across his lips then filled his mouth. Seeds from some sort of berry moved along his tongue as he'd tasted and sucked the finger clean. It might have been a little filthy, Carl wasn't sure, but Negan didn't make another move and he was left suspended in anticipation.

  


'Jelly...'

  


'Mm. Marionberry and...'

  


Another pause, another suction pop of a jar being opened and another thick finger coated in sticky sweetness being pressed slowly between his lips.

  


'I don't know this one.' Carl had licked and smacked, trying to figure out the flavor.

  


'Red currant. Its my favorite.'

  


Head thrown back, looking up at Negan upside down, he'd watched him dig his finger into the homemade jelly and scoop out a big dollop and plop it onto his own tongue. Noticing he was being watched, Negan had wiggled his brows and moved closer. 'Tastes better when its been warmed up a little first...' and he'd kissed Carl, tasting like blood red jam.

  


+

  


'Negan.'

  


The man's name had been like a prayer on his lips, strong hands pawing at his back and curving around his shoulder blades pulling him closer to press reverent kisses to his sternum. The truck they'd holed up in for the night had maybe once been turquoise or robin's egg blue, nearly turned orange and brown with rust and mud, the windows caked with years of dirt. Thunder had rolled low across the forest, vibrations rattling up from the earth and down from the heavens at once as lightning streaked the charcoal black sky like living veins pulsing, thriving with life.

  


They'd gotten caught in the rain, soaked through almost instantly in the flash of an early autumn storm. The drops were warm, soothing and familiar, then cool and refreshing. They had stood like kids for a moment, arms outstretched, mouths wide open, drinking down the droplets until they'd realized where they were, out in the open and totally exposed.

  


Negan had spotted the truck. After a few minutes of wiggling out of sopping wet flannel and worn leather and a little ingenuity with some soggy cardboard, they'd blocked most of the windows. Moving closer and snuggling had originally been because Carl couldn't stop shivering and the sound of his 'damn teeth chattering was gonna wake the dead.' But Carl had moved closer and closer until he'd made a chair of Negans' lap and the older man's lips on his had served to make his teeth stop chattering.

  


Negan's mouth had moved lower, beard rubbing along the wet skin of his neck, leaving tender, red marks. His teeth scraping along his pulse point had Carl moaning high and needy. Strong fingers bent around the curve of a moon-pale hip, sneaking up his back like the lightning snaked across the sky, sending electric jolts of pleasure right down to Carl's bones.

  


Carl had sighed out a shaky breath, his eye closed tight. Then he was on his back somehow, looking up at Negan, soft blue illuminating his features. He pulled Negan's lips to his own, picking up the kiss where they'd left off. Negan had jerked Carl's jeans off and Carl let himself be swept up in the moment, let Negan manhandle and undress his nearly limp body because it had felt right.

  


He'd been pushed further up the bench seat until his head hit the passenger door and Carl had lifted an eyebrow at him as he'd watched Negan undress too. He'd never seen Negan without a shirt and the vulnerability of the action had struck him as he'd reached out to timidly place his hand on the older man's chest. It was scarred like his, some from a knife or blade, maybe even a bullet wound on his shoulder and some from obvious accidents. It had never occurred to him before then, that Negan had his own scars, his own stories, his own history and he made it a point to find out the story behind each one.

  


Negan placed a hand over Carl's encouraging him to touch and explore the new expanse of his body. He'd settled between Carl's too long legs that were folded up, bent awkwardly, knee hitting the back window. The two of them had barely fit on the vinyl seat. Suddenly where they were and what they were doing meant something, this position, Carl knew what was about to happen and his breathing had picked up, pulse pounding.

  


'Negan, I—'

  


'You'll warm up faster this way. Trust me, okay baby doll?' Negan slowly laid down on him, their still damp chests had met and Carl had tensed, still wondering if Negan would try and pressure him into something more.

  


He could feel the man's heart beating against his rib cage, the soaked denim of Negan's jeans a little irritating to the sensitive inside of his thighs, as he waited long minutes for something, anything other than Negan simply holding him close. A few more moments had ticked by and Negan's breathing had evened out and a quiet snore left him. He'd...fallen asleep. Just like that.

  


Carl had wrapped his arms around Negan's shoulders, returning the embrace, feeling warm and safe beneath a man he was supposed to hate but couldn't quite seem to.

  


God, he'd been so damn stupid for ever thinking this could just be a game.

  


+

  


The roar of an obnoxiously loud engine could be heard from miles over the rolling hills of the Virginia landscape and had drawn Carl's attention immediately. What the hell kind of asshole would drive one of those around at this point? His question had been answered shortly when a shiny red Camero convertible pulled up to the gate and the one and only asshole himself had winked up at him and whistled, a blend of a dog call and a wolf whistle.

  


'Hey there, young man. Wanna open the gate for me?'

  


Carl had crossed his arms and cocked his hip out to the side, fighting hard not to smile. He hated this man.

  


'Better yet,' Negan rolled his tongue across his teeth and looked up at Carl, all lazy smolder and easy confidence. 'Why don't you hop in and let me take _you_ for a spin.'

  


'Yeah, okay. No.' He's fairly certain he saw the back of his skull he'd rolled his eyes so hard.

  


'C'mon, angel.' He drawled out, drawing the attention of everyone on the wall and near the gate.

  


The asshole was putting him on the spot. It was a test, a chance for Negan to parade his power over the leader's son, calling him like a dog with a whistle, 'c'mere, boy!' And make it fuckin' snappy, if the rev of the engine was any indication of his patience.

  


They'd made a deal—Carl spends time with Negan a few times a week, supposedly for training under his careful guidance and for 'having a goddamn decent conversation every once in a fuckin' while,' and in exchange, the Saviors don't touch their food or medical supplies. It was a fair trade, Carl thought, but his dad had fought it tooth and nail. In the end, Carl had stood his ground and told his father he was an adult and this was something easy he could do for their community. It caused a rift between them, but it didn't matter much; its not like Rick had really been there much lately.

  


Negan had stepped out, black leather jacket shining in the midday sun, crossed his hands one over the other and leaned back against the car. 'You're a big boy, right?' That irritating hips forward lean back on his heels. 'Clean your own guns and everything? So what do ya say, kid?' He waved his hand over the car like a game show host.

  


Carl had huffed and climbed down over the fence from the guard post, leaving the other guard staring after him in disdain. He had strut up to Negan, using a hint of his own confident swagger, and stood arms crossed in front of the absolute worst human being on the face of the earth. 'I really hate you sometimes.'

  


'Oh stop, you're makin' my shriveled old heart go pitter-patter!' Negan waved his hands, pantomiming comedic fear of the lanky teen before him, a huge shit eating grin spread across his face and opened the passenger door for Carl.

  


They'd driven for a ways, wind whipping Carl's hair around his face, sheriff hat tucked under the seat like a dirty secret, before he'd spoken again. 'Why did you do this?'

  


'Because,' Negan's head lolled along the head rest, taking his eyes off the road for a brief moment, licking his lips as he smiled. 'I knew you'd say yes.'

  


  


+

  


Early dawn broke across the forest, fog rising up like spirits from the fallen pine needles. Morning light filters in through the uncovered slats and between the cracks of the drapes and blinds like golden threads. Everything is remarkably quiet.

  


Carl slowly blinks his eyes open, shaking off the light chill in the air, clinging almost like dew to his long hair. He shakes his head, trying to clear his sleep clouded mind. He remembers running from the walkers the night before, finding the trailer and collapsing with Negan on the floor almost as soon as they'd set foot inside. He didn't even remember falling asleep.

  


“Morning, boy.” Negan's voice is gruff. Either he hadn't slept or had been up for some time. He's sat on the floor, one leg bent elbow perched on his knee, resting back against the built in bench seat in the kitchenette. His face is blank, tired looking.

  


“Morning.” Carl manages to roll up onto his hands and knees and crawl over to Negan, curling up against his side. “You sleep?”

  


“Mm. Some.” Negan threads his fingers through Carl's hair, massaging his scalp and places a kiss to his crown. “They're all gone.”

  


“What? Really? Why didn't you wake me up?” Carl kneels up and peeps out one of the curtains, instantly blinded by the morning sun, but greeted by a walker-free clearing. “We could've gone home.”

  


“Wanted to let you sleep. You needed it.” He runs work toughened hands down his face, letting out a deep sigh before blinking up at his young lover with a warm smile.

  


Carl reaches out and cups the older man's face, enjoying the smile, the twinkle that still shone in tired, hazel eyes. He touches their foreheads together with a small smile of his own, slowly bringing their lips together in a tentative kiss. He slides into Negan's lap, the safest place on earth, into the grasp of hands that hold him like he was a delicate treasure. There was something special about being the only thing that those violent hands held so baby bird-gentle.

  


They break the kiss, lips catching on each other's as they pulled apart. Negan noses into his hairline, breath huffing moist against his cheek as Carl settles down into the cradle of Negan's hips. He runs fingers up the back of Negan's neck, tangling them in his hair and pulling his head back, producing a low groan from the older man.

  


“Nothing like running for your life and spending the night in a trash heap of a trailer to get the blood pumping, hm?” Negan smirks, drawing a sharp breath between his pearly teeth when Carl gave his hair another tug. “Fuckin' love you, baby boy.”

  


“I know you do...” Carl grins, pressing their lips together again, rolling his hips down into Negan's. He presses little kisses to Negan's coarse facial hair, loving the scent that always seemed to linger there. “...will you show me just how much?”

  


With a throaty chuckle, Negan flips them, pinning Carl beneath him with the weight of his hips, attacking his lips with voracious kisses that steals the air right out of him. He alights himself between Carl's open legs, falling into a rolling, familiar cadence that both winds Carl up and brings him comfort. Negan was here, with him, and they'd survived another day. Together.

  


They make quick work of each other's jeans, fumbling buttons open and zippers down, their arousals coming to rest perfectly in Negan's spit slick palm. The way Negan touches him is always perfect, his hand warm, his touch gentle and expert, knowing exactly how to twist his wrist here, squeeze there. It was almost frightening how well Negan knew his body. But it isn't quite right today, doesn't feel like enough and he whimpers in confused frustration and slight discomfort.

  


“What is it?” Negan moves away, studying Carl's face. “Did you get hurt?”

  


“No, its not that.” Carl blushes vermilion from chest to the tips of his ears. His fingers dig hard into the leather of his older lover's jacket and he's having a hard time making eye contact. “Its just...I want...”

  


“Anything you want, darlin'...just tell me.” Negan murmurs sweetly against his lips, giving him tender little pecks between words.

  


“...I...want you...inside.”

  


“Inside?”

  


“Inside.” Carl thought he was going to explode from nervousness or embarrassment, whichever lit the fuse first. “Please?”

  


“Oh.” Negan's eyes grew dark with want, the velvet brown reaching an all new depth. He breathes, collecting himself, holding Carl's chin between forefinger and thumb, creating eye contact. “Are you sure?”

  


He somehow manages to still look down slightly, despite the hold on his chin, and glances up through his lashes demurely. “Yes. I want to know...what its like.” Carl interrupts before Negan could get another word out. “And yes, I'm sure. I wouldn't have asked you if I wasn't.”

  


“Huffy little princess.” The older man chuckles starting to unbutton Carl's shirt. He presses kisses into milky skin as he moves, tongue flicking out to tease at rosy pink nipples, lathing the flat of it across one then the other. When he reaches Carl's hips, he looks up at him, catching his eye again, right before licking and sucking his slender member into his inviting mouth.

  


“Negan—!” Carl whines loud, tries to stifle it with his wrist pressed to his mouth, fighting his body's instinct to curl up around Negan's head. He'd done this a few times before, but each time was as mind blowing as the last; he didn't think he'd ever get used to how good it felt.

  


“Up. Hands and knees, baby.” Negan grunts the command, licking his lips like Carl was his favorite treat as he pulled off and gave the teen's butt a firm pat. He points to the edge of the bench. “Brace yourself on that.”

  


Carl trembles as he obeys, turning onto his side and pushing up, fingers sinking like claws into the old vinyl. He tries to even out his breathing, closes his eye, focusing on the rise and fall of his chest. A touch to his back makes him nearly jump out of his skin.

  


“Hey, hey, its alright. Calm down. Its just me.” Kneeling up behind him, Negan brushes Carl's hair aside, gaining access to the side of his neck and baring his nape. He kisses along the top of his shoulders and up into downy baby hairs, all the while caressing Carl's back and legs in slow, soothing loops. A finger slips between round cheeks to delicately tease at Carl's entrance.

  


Carl gasps and screws his eye shut, whole body tensing. He doesn't know what he was expecting exactly, but he figures discomfort and maybe even pain were inevitable with things like this.

  


“You gotta relax, Carl.” Negan collects spit in his mouth, voice like silk, coats his finger with it and goes back to lightly stimulating the small pucker. “Just let me take care of things, okay?”

  


“O-okay.” Carl moans when a familiar hand wraps around his length from behind, tugging at a leisurely, pleasure-rich pace that has him completely distracted when a finger begins to breech him. There isn't any pain like he'd thought, instead it feels like more pleasure was being piled upon him, not sure if he wants to thrust into Negan's hand or back onto the invading digit.

  


“Doing good.” Keeping his hand on Carl's cock, he bent slightly to add more spit, letting it drip from between his lips near the finger he was slowly inserting into his lover. With a twist of his wrist, he sinks in to the first knuckle with an aroused groan. Negan sucks on the back of his teeth, an appreciative sound as he barely inches out and pushes back in. “You have no idea how hot this is.”

  


“Shut up...don't tease...” Carl pants. Just one finger feels like so much and its moving inside him, brushing over things he didn't even know existed until that moment. A fine sheen of sweat is starting to break out over him and he's shaking from head to toe.

  


“I'm not. You look fuckin' incredible.” Negan juts his hips forward, rubbing his burgeoning arousal on Carl's backside. “Feel that? All for you, baby boy.”

  


It makes Carl's breath catch in his chest feeling Negan back there, moving his hips in time with his finger, creating an almost seamless illusion of what it would be like to be fucked by him. The heavy sighs and moans coming from Negan just urge him on, every little touch arousing him that much more.

  


“Do you think you're ready for another?” A fingertip prods carefully at his sensitive rim, brushing lightly around it.

  


For a moment, he isn't sure. He already feels so full, but a good kind of full that's grounding him in the moment and sending sparks shooting down his legs. And almost more than that...he wants to make Negan proud. He wants to do this right for him. He wants to hear him tell him how good he is, how beautiful he is, how much Carl is driving him crazy.

  


“Yes.” Carl nods, voice coming out breathy and faint.

  


“That's my little serial killer...taking it like a boss.” Negan breathes a chuckle hot against the side of Carl's neck, eliciting a fresh batch of goosebumps across fair skin. He gathers as much spit as he can and dribbles it onto Carl's ass, working it in with a massaging touch. “Keep breathing, its important.” He pushes his middle finger forward, watching it disappear inside Carl.

  


“F-fuck!” Shoulders hunching up, Carl lets his head hang forward, sobbing with the stretch and at how good it feels. He tries to tell himself to keep breathing, but its proving hard with thick fingers working inside him. Twinkles of light swirl behind his eyelids every time Negan hits that spot and he feels like he's floating. His voice is all whimpery and needy when he speaks again. “Negan—hnn! Please...”

  


Negan hums a comforting affirmation of his enjoyment and pride right against Carl's earlobe, nipping the succulent bit of flesh. He slips his hand from Carl's length, letting the fingers inside the teen do all the work. Carl whines at the loss of contact, wiggling his hips from side to side, trying to taunt Negan into touching his cock again. Negan begins pushing and pulling in earnest, speeding up his thrusts. “I want you to come for me. Untouched, just like this.” His dark voice purrs. “I know you can.”

  


“I can't!” Carl whimpers, tears welling up in his eye. He wants to, God, he wants to, but its all too much, and he doesn't think its possible to come like this. In his moment of weakness, the name that he's been holding in all this time, right there under his tongue, slips out. "Daddy--!"

  


“Yes you can.” Negan smiles, purring and nuzzling Carl's cheek in aroused affection. He changes the angle of his hand slightly and pushes back in harder, making Carl's cock jerk and leak pre-cum onto the floor. “Make Daddy proud, baby.”

  


That does it. Carl comes hard, bright red length spurting thick onto the dusty floor while talented fingers milk his orgasm from him. He's never felt anything like it before, like he has absolutely no control over his body's reactions and Negan is pulling his strings like a little puppet. He cries out, tears freely flowing now at the overwhelming crest of his climax. He shudders and his whole body gives a jerk as his orgasm begins to ebb and Negan carefully pulls his fingers out.

  


Carl collapses forward in a boneless heap, knees giving out and sliding to the side on the floor. His death grip on the old bench is the only thing keeping him upright at this point. He looks back over his shoulder at Negan to find him smiling. The older man pets his back lovingly, pressing kisses to his sweaty brow. “Feel good?”

  


“Mm.” He pushes himself off the bench with a nod and moves towards Negan, shoving and tugging at him until he takes the hint and stands, resting back against the old Formica table looking down at Carl with an arched brow. His limbs feel all wobbly and rubbery and he's so tired, but he also wants to do this, wants to give Negan something special too.

  


Carl looks shyly up through his bangs as he kneels before Negan, it bugs the shit out of him how much Negan probably loves seeing him kneel, and runs his hands up his strong thighs to his hips. He flicks his tongue out, placing little kitten licks and kisses to Negan's hips. He studies Negan's heavy length for a moment before reaching out and taking it, kind of hating how badly he wants to do this. Parting his lips, he slides Negan's cock into his mouth for the first time, surprised by the weight and heat of it on his tongue.

  


“Shit! Kid...” Negan groans as his head falls back and Carl feels more than a little smug over it. He tenderly laps at the underside, tasting salt-sweet and Negan. The skin is hot and silky and he finds he actually really likes the taste. When Negan's hand comes to rest on his head, he doesn't shrug it off, enjoying the sense of adoration in the gesture. He glances up, just a quick peek, at Negan's face and his heart throbs at the sight of him looking so wrecked. “Feels good.”

  


He takes more of Negan's length into his mouth, trying his best to accommodate all of it, but gags and has to pull back slightly, cheeks flaming hot in embarrassment. He pulls off to stroke his sizable member, hand slipping through sloppy, sticky spit.

  


“Its alright. You're doing really good.” His fingers tangle into Carl's long hair, scratching lightly at his scalp. Negan allows himself to thrust into Carl's hand like he hadn't with his mouth. “Carl...” The deep timber of his voice makes Carl's name sound like a curse, a sound meant to be smothered by a pillow and sheets in the height of passion and its delicious. Catching his breath, Carl takes Negan back into his mouth, using his hand to squeeze and rub what doesn't fit. He watches devoutly as Negan's thighs tense and shake, his grip white-knuckling down on the creaking table. “Gonna come.”

  


“Mmm.” Carl lets his eye fall shut, maintaining his rhythm and showing Negan he isn't going anywhere.

  


“You wanna swallow my cum, darlin'? Look at you. So damn good for me.” Negan's voice is husky and full of pride and combined with his lewd words has Carl blushing a vibrant scarlet. The older man's breathing changes, becoming more ragged and he tightens his grip on Carl's hair. Holding Carl's mouth right where he wants it, he comes with a shallow thrust. He groans loud and exultant, like a lion's roar, as he climaxes inside his lover's mouth, cock twitching and pulsing. The look on his face is absolutely filthy as he pulls out, watching strings of saliva stretch, connecting a sinful mouth to his cock.

  


Jerking Carl to his feet, Negan yanks him in for a kiss. Its wet and messy and tastes like Negan's spend, but Negan doesn't seem to mind, so neither does Carl. His whole body reacts to the provocative carnality, thrumming to life as Negan's wicked tongue delves into his mouth, licking every inch of it. Carl's lips and chin burn when Negan finally pulls back and allows him to start breathing normally again.

  


Negan drags them both to the floor, worn out. He quickly tucks himself back in and does his jeans up before encouraging Carl straddle his lap facing him, pulling him into a bear hug of an embrace as he helps the boy back into his flannel. Forefinger and thumb to Carl's chin, he lifts the teen's face so he can really look at that bright sunny sky blue eye. “Goddamn magnificent...that's what you are. Absolutely fuckin' magnificent.”

  


Carl had felt the weight of Negan's gaze, knew what it meant to have all that charisma and charm focused solely on him, but nothing could compare to the look on Negan's face now. It was a mixture of devotion, need and something Carl wasn't sure he had a name for yet that he felt tugging at his own heart strings. It made him recall what his dad had said all that time ago when he'd asked what it felt like and when he knew he was in lo—that stupid four letter word for when care for someone very deeply.

  


_'It feels like the whole world is made just for you two. Like everything else is happening around you, but all you can see is this person. Its unhealthy, but it makes life without them seem unbearable.' Rick had paused, a slight smile on his lips as he looked down and rubbed his chin.'It feels like living for the first time but not realizing you weren't really living before you met them.'_

  


Back then, his dad had probably thought he was talking about Enid and had no idea he was helping his son work out his feelings for their sworn enemy. He'd wondered if that was what he was seeing reflected in Negan's eyes, if his own carried the same heavy mix of emotions. Whatever it was, it made his chest ache and he hated every second of it.

  


“What are you scowling like that up at me for, boy?” Negan furrows his brows in mock reproach, a playful smile teasing the corners of his lips.

  


Carl pouts his lips, brows knitting further together. “You...” He starts and stops with a huff, gathering his thoughts. “You make me feel...things. It makes me feel all weak and stupid and I don't like it.”

  


Negan snorts and starts genuinely laughing. “You make me feel 'things' too, but _I_ like it.”

  


“Now you're just making fun of me.” Carl sulks, poking at Negan's stomach.

  


“Maybe just a little, but only because you're so adorable.” He brushes the pad of his thumb along Carl's full bottom lip, a standing sign of deep affection between them when words weren't necessary or convenient. “I love you, Carl Grimes.”

  


“I like you a lot too.” Its mumbled and doesn't sound very sincere, but deep down, Carl means every syllable.

 


End file.
